


us & them

by yoogiboobi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, mild exhibitionism kink, the character development of a green velvet armchair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28668168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoogiboobi/pseuds/yoogiboobi
Summary: “Told you this was a good chair, though,” Shinsuke adds as an afterthought, patting the armrest.“A good chair,” Atsumu nods. Very sturdy, very reliable. “Maybe we should leave a review. The people have to know. Five out of five, very good for love makin’.”—There's an armchair in the corner of Atsumu's living room. He's never thought much of it, until the moment Shinsuke decides to sit on it.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 14
Kudos: 137
Collections: Atsukita NSFW





	us & them

**Author's Note:**

> written for NSFW AtsuKita Week, day 7, free day. thank you goob and min for organising this event! <3

—

There’s an armchair in the corner of Atsumu’s living room. It doesn’t get much use, for he tends to favour the grey couch next to it where there’s enough space for him to stretch his legs.

The chair’s deep green velvet lining and high back give it a certain kind of royal aura he would never choose for himself, but it was there when he had first moved in, consistent with the other deep green accents of the western-style decoration, and he has never been bothered by it enough to move it out of sight. In fact, he’s never really given it much thought at all.

Shinsuke doesn’t pay it any mind whenever he’s around, either. Why would he, when there’s a perfectly decent couch next to it, usually occupied by Atsumu, who is all too happy to beckon him over with open arms and grabby hands.

And so the chair remains in its corner, facing the center of the room, twice as tall as it is wide, framed by the floor-to-ceiling window behind it, nothing more than yet another useless piece of decor that came with the apartment.

Until the moment Shinsuke takes the initiative to sit on it.

On a perfectly ordinary Saturday night, Atsumu walks out of the kitchen after dinner to find Shinsuke curled up there, reading a book, bare feet digging softly into the green velvet cushion. He is not a small person by any means, but seeing him huddled in the big chair tricks Atsumu into believing he could scoop his boyfriend up with a spoon if he tried.

Shinsuke’s hair is still damp from the shower he’d taken while Atsumu handled the kitchen clean up duty. He’s changed into a maroon shirt that cuts off mid-thigh, just roomy enough to be his sleep attire of choice whenever he spends the night, paired with nothing but underwear. Atsumu’s fingers itch to touch his bare legs. Behind him, beyond the window, the inky night sky frames him and the throne-like armchair into something worthy of a painting, timeless, not meant to be disturbed.

Unlike most other windows in the fifteenth floor apartment that feature a broad view over the city, the one this chair is placed in front of happens to face the twin building across the street. From where he’s standing, Atsumu can only see the narrow corner of it, but he knows it will take no more than a couple steps forward for it to come into view. What he hadn’t yet considered, but does so now, is the armchair’s convenient placement—its back rises above the top of Shinsuke’s head, shielding him from prying eyes originating from the neighbouring apartments. Perhaps the reason why this exceptionally tall armchair had been placed in front of this particular window had everything to do with _privacy_ all along.

Prompted by this line of thinking, like morning mist over an ocean, an idea starts taking shape in his mind. He doesn’t know where it’ll take him but, for now, he simply crosses the room and comes to stand next to the chair. The apartments across the street are a mirrored version of his own, all part of the same closed complex. There are people inside quite a few of them, going about their lives, oblivious to Shinsuke’s existence, hidden behind the chair.

Atsumu looks down at him and plays with the silver hairs that have gotten caught on the fabric’s green fibers. He questions Shinsuke’s sudden decision to use this armchair in the way it was always meant to be used, instead of ignoring it like they’d been doing for months.

“What’re you doing?” he questions.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Shinsuke replies, eyes on the book.

“That’s not what I meant. Why here? We never sit here.”

“I know. Why’s that? It’s a good chair.”

“There’s not enough space for the both of us.” Atsumu frowns. It’s _obvious_.

Shinsuke looks up at him to check how seriously Atsumu means that, though Atsumu himself isn’t sure how serious he is. Whatever the conclusion Shinsuke draws, it makes him scoot closer to one side, leaving enough space for Atsumu to slot his body between Shinsuke and the armrest, which he does. It’s a tight fit, though not as much as he’d initially thought—it really is a big chair.

Shinsuke accommodates him with an arm across his shoulders and nails brushing over the short hairs of his undercut, before he returns to his book. Despite it all, Atsumu still doesn’t understand why they have to be crammed in here when there’s an empty couch just two steps away.

“Uhm. Shin.”

“What?”

“‘s not very comfortable, is it?”

“I was quite comfortable before you decided you needed to be here too.”

“You’d relegate me to the couch, all by myself?”

“No,” Shinsuke says, lightly pinching his earlobe, “I would have joined you on the couch if you’d sat there. This just seemed like a good spot to read while you were finishing up in the kitchen.”

It is, indeed, a nice place to read—leave it to Shinsuke to provide a reasonable reply to a question that was anything but. The big floor lamp that arches above the chair provides the ideal light for it. Atsumu thinks he’s learning a whole lot about this corner of his living room he’d mostly ignored up until tonight.

Shinsuke snaps his book closed with a sigh, probably figuring he won’t be reading much anymore, with the way Atsumu clings to him like a cat seeking its owner’s undivided attention for no apparent reason.

“Well, you _are_ here now,” he says, unfolding his legs and dropping his feet to the floor, “so I guess there’s a reason to move to the—”

He makes to stand—but Atsumu thinks he’s got other plans now. He traps Shinsuke in his arms. Limbs entangle and shuffle positions, until Atsumu is firmly sat on the armchair with a lapful of Shinsuke, right where he wants him, naked thighs on either side of his own, maroon shirt pooled over where their hips meet. Shinsuke’s book drops to the floor, no longer needed.

“Stay here,” says Atsumu.

Shinsuke tilts his head to the side, confused by Atsumu’s sudden change of heart. “But there’s more space on the couch, you said it yourself.”

“Yeah, but—stay here. ‘s nice if we sit like this, right?”

Shinsuke studies him with those big chestnut eyes of his; they roam over the space between their bodies, the green velvet around them, and, momentarily, lightning fast, stray over the back of the chair, past the window, before they fall back onto Atsumu again. He leans down and brushes their noses together.

“It’s nice. We can stay,” he says, before he kisses Atsumu, again and again, and then some more, all soft lips and gentle tongue. He tastes like mint.

Atsumu gives in to it, kisses him with the heart and soul of a man in love, head full of nothing but the weight of Shinsuke, the smell of Shinsuke, the feel of Shinsuke, the taste of Shinsuke. And yet—an infinitesimal part of him is thinking about the lit apartments behind them. Do they see the moving top of Shinsuke’s head, do they see their tangled legs, do they notice there are two people in an armchair that is made for just one? Have they ever seen them exchanging heated kisses and touches somewhere in the living room before they moved it to the privacy of the bedroom? Is anyone watching them right now?

He nibbles on Shinsuke’s bottom lip and kneads his thighs while he entertains the questions on the back of his mind, unsure what to make of them. It’s only when the tips of his fingers dip below the hem of Shinsuke’s boxer briefs and his thumbs edge towards the heat between his legs that the stuttered sigh Shinsuke lets loose against his lips clicks Atsumu’s gears into place. 

“Shin. Make love to me. Right here.”

“Here?” Shinsuke looks through the window, over the back of the chair, lets his eyes linger on what he sees outside before he looks back at him for confirmation.

“Here.”

Shinsuke blinks. He looks neither put off nor enthused by the request, even though Atsumu had brought up the topic of semi-public sex before, during one of their sex talks, and Shinsuke had written it down on their _maybe (to try)_ list.

A beat of silence. Atsumu can feel him analysing, calculating, pondering. Then—

“People might see us.” Atsumu’s fingers sink deeper into his soft thighs. He continues, “People might see _me_.”

Just the mere thought of it makes Atsumu’s blood rush south, but there’s a conversation to be had. He knows Shinsuke doesn’t agree to anything he isn’t entirely comfortable with, but he also knows negotiations must be done with a clear head.

“We can switch, if you want. You’ll be less exposed. Or we don’t have to do it at all, here, now. Bedroom’s just fine.”

Calloused fingers ghost lightly over his chest, shoulder, then back down as Shinsuke mulls over his words. Atsumu removes his hands from Shinsuke’s thighs and locks them loosely around his waist, patiently waiting for his boyfriend to tell him what he wants to do.

“The possibility of having strangers watching us—does that excite you?” Shinsuke starts.

“Right now, yes.”

“Why’s that? You never explained it to me. I want to understand.”

Atsumu shrugs and rolls his tongue in his mouth, trying to find the words for something he had never cared to question himself. “I’m not sure. ‘s all in my head, I think. I don’t actually care if they’re watching or not. It’s all in the _possibility_ of it. The thought of taunting them with what they cannot have, what they cannot touch—because you’re mine and I’m yours, and everyone else is not part of the equation.”

A pause. Shinsuke kisses him languidly while he processes the information, tongue soft and malleable against his.

“I’m not sure that was a good explanation,” Atsumu muses, appalled at his own unhelpfulness.

Shinsuke’s eyes curve into crescents with his smile. “No, I do not think it was. And yet, it felt strangely enlightening. Ever since you brought it up I thought it was something along the lines of _you_ liking to be watched, regardless of who you were with. But it’s more of an _us_ thing, then?”

Atsumu nods. “You’ve never thought about it—putting on a show for someone else?”

“For you, only,” he replies, like an arrow to the heart.

“Let’s look into that one day.”

“One day.” he kisses the corner of his mouth like a promise. “And who’s this _they_ you speak of? Are they always strangers? A faceless audience that takes no part in the act?”

“Mostly, yeah. When it’s not you, I mean. They can’t touch me, they can’t touch you. They just watch and envy us.”

“Sounds a lot like flaunting.”

“Maybe it is. We’re worthy of showing off, don’t you think?”

Shinsuke neither confirms it nor denies it, which means he probably agrees, deep down.

“Consider me enlightened,” he says with an air of finality that sparks hope in Atsumu’s little expectant heart. “I will indulge in your fantasy—here, now.”

Atsumu touches their foreheads together, breathes his air. “Are you sure?”

Shinsuke pecks his lips. “I’m sure.”

“Tell me if you want to stop, at any time.”

“Okay. You too.”

“Keep close to me, if you need.”

Shinsuke runs his tongue lightly across his bottom lip. “Okay,” he says, before Atsumu’s tongue meets his and they seal it with a kiss.

The absence of underwear and the light grey color of Atsumu’s sweatpants do a poor job of concealing his early arousal. It doesn’t take long until Shinsuke is twitching to life against him as well, as they center themselves back on each other, oblivious to everything and everyone else for a while, between kisses, touches, and nipping teeth.

Shinsuke breaks away from Atsumu to pull his shirt off and marvel at his bare torso. Toned stomach, shapely chest, wide shoulders—his stare lights a fire in its wake. Atsumu is well aware of the power he has over him the moment clothes start to fly, but it’s a two-way street; the more Shinsuke wants him, the more turned on Atsumu gets.

Shinsuke splays a hand over his chest, licks his lips. “You’re a feast for the eyes, Atsumu,” he says, low, “and I get to have all of you, all to myself. Lucky me.”

It’s like being devoured whole. Shinsuke must feel him twitching in his pants, because that’s where he directs his attention next. He palms at the bulge between his legs, works all kinds of breathy sounds out of Atsumu as he gropes his balls and grinds his own clothed erection against him. The narrow space between their bodies gets heated and while Atsumu feels the need to be kissed senseless, he is also not opposed to being on the receiving end of Shinsuke’s unwavering stare as he pulls on the loose waistband of his sweatpants and reveals the glistening head of his dick, aching to be touched.

Atsumu runs his hands up his legs, slips a hand beneath his underwear and gives his ass a squeeze, prompting him to speak what is on his mind. It works almost too well.

“Wanna kiss it,” Shinsuke confides, barely above a whisper, looking at him from under his lashes, wetting his lips like his mouth is watering just thinking about it.

Atsumu curses under his breath. “ _Please_.”

Ever the magic word. The corner of Shinsuke’s mouth twitches into a smile directed at him, at the desperation in his voice, and he keeps it there as he slithers down his body, until he’s on his knees, between Atsumu’s legs, breathing hotly over his dick.

He pulls Atsumu’s foreskin out of the way, then takes his own words literally and starts peppering featherlight kisses against his sensitive head. Small, thin strings of precome cling to his lips, which he tastes with swipes of his tongue that brush against Atsumu’s dick in a way that feels too good to be done on accident.

Atsumu finds himself biting his tongue, gripping the chair’s arm rests a bit too hard, but in the split second it takes him to unclench his fingers, Shinsuke parts his lips and takes him into his mouth, making him clamp down on the soft velvet even harder.

Shinsuke sucks him off with little lewd noises, tongue dragging against his shaft and swirling over his head. Every bob of his head takes Atsumu deeper into his soft mouth, coaxing breathy moans out of him every time he deliberately grazes his teeth over hypersensitive skin.

Atsumu brushes a thumb over the hollow of his cheek, feels the tip of his dick bulging against it before he buries his fingers into Shinsuke’s soft hair and leaves them there, making a mess out of it. He wants to close his eyes and drown in the feeling as much as he wants to commit every detail to memory—Shinsuke’s red lips stretched around his girth, his hands gripping his waist, keeping his sweatpants out of the way, Shinsuke _watching_ him out the corner of his eye when he tilts his head and changes his angle. He sinks into the chair, lets bliss take over him and thinks he’d happily let Shinsuke suck the life force out of him if that meant he could die with his cock in his mouth.

Except he doesn’t only think it; he speaks it. A common occurrence during sex where he’s so into it his brain to mouth filter malfunctions. This horny nonsense is nothing new to Shinsuke, but hearing him say it still sparks amusement in his expression.

In exchange for his devout words, he takes Atsumu as deep as he’s able to, until the head of his dick bumps the back of his throat and there it remains as Shinsuke fights his gag reflex and Atsumu tries not to blow his load right then and there when he feels his throat walls convulsing around him.

Just as they’re both on the brink of their limits, Shinsuke pops his dick out of his mouth and spits generously over the tip, letting the excess drool run down his swollen length. Atsumu lets out a weak, pathetic noise.

“There’s something I haven’t told you yet,” Shinsuke says, mouth still brushing against the underside of Atsumu’s dick.

“What is it?”

No reply. Shinsuke presses one last open mouthed kiss to his dripping head, then stands and makes a show of stripping out of his underwear, revealing nothing beneath the maroon fabric except the hard outline of his erection.

Atsumu sits up, puts his hands on the side of his thighs. Curiosity bites at him. “Shin?”

Shinsuke brushes his blond bangs away from his forehead. “You came close to it but you missed it. I wanted you to find it.”

“Wha— what did I miss, Shin?”

“Touch me and you’ll see.”

The possibilities are endless, but Shinsuke doesn’t really have to tell him twice. Any excuse to touch him is a good excuse. He runs his hands from the back of his calves to his thighs, until the hem of his shirt catches on his wrists. He scans Shinsuke’s arms, looks up at his face, neck, all the shapes he can see beneath the fabric of his shirt. Nothing looks out of place.

“Do I need to take this off?” he asks, eyeing the shirt.

“Not here.” Shinsuke places his hands on his forearms. “But no, you don’t.” He guides Atsumu’s hands to the back of his thighs, beneath the curve of his ass. Atsumu swallows. “It’s somewhere _in_ my body.”

 _Oh_.

Atsumu’s brain helpfully provides a colourful string of curses he barely manages to contain. It gets louder the higher his hands travel. He feels the round shape of his cheeks, spreads them apart, then dares to touch the space between them until he feels it, buried snugly inside Shinsuke—the head of a butt plug.

“ _Fuck_.”

Shinsuke’s eyes flutter closed the moment he touches the toy and his lips part with a moan when Atsumu gathers his bearings and presses two fingers against it, shifting it inside him. He slides a finger under the head, feels Shinsuke’s stretched rim, sensitive and slippery with lube.

Words stick to his mouth like candy. “How long— how long have you been walking around with this?”

Shinsuke opens his eyes, takes a second to focus on him. “Not long. I put it in the shower.” His voice has turned noticeably breathier, as if he’d been holding back this entire time and is only letting loose now that his secret is out. “Thought we could have some fun.”

Atsumu feels his mouth going dry and salivating uncontrollably at the same time, somehow. He sits further back on the chair and moves Shinsuke closer by the hips until he’s standing with one leg kneeled over the chair’s armrest, thighs spread apart just mere centimeters away from Atsumu’s face, tempting him.

His fingers keep pressing on the plug, aiming it towards his stomach, searching for his prostate. He knows he’s found it when Shinsuke’s mouth falls open, face pinched with pleasure. Atsumu is unable to resist and bends forward to trace the hard outline of his dick through the shirt, staining the fabric. Shinsuke twitches under the attention and lifts the hem of the shirt soon after, allowing Atsumu access to slip under it, then pulling the fabric over the top of his head so most of him remains hidden from view.

Up close, Shinsuke smells of soap and the heady scent of sex. Atsumu laps up every drop of precome, wets him from base to head before he takes him whole and feels his bitter taste on the back of his tongue. Above him, Shinsuke lets loose small, pleasured sounds, one hand over Atsumu’s head.

“Could you feel this inside you every time you moved?” Atsumu breathes against his dick, pressing the heel of his palm against it. “Were you turned on this whole time, hiding it from me?”

“Yes.”

“Was this the kind of fun you had in mind? D’ya wanna come like this?”

He sinks Shinsuke’s dick back into his mouth before he gets an answer, but Shinsuke doesn’t stutter when he replies, “I wanted you. Inside me.”

Atsumu pulls off wetly and emerges from under his shirt, hair standing on end, no doubt looking like he’s just been treated to a full course meal. 

“I take it you’re still interested?”

Shinsuke looks down at him. His gaze _burns._ “Very much so, yes.”

Atsumu sits back, licks his lips, and pats his thighs, beckoning him to take a seat back on his lap. Shinsuke does.

“You’re looking quite chipper,” he comments with the beginnings of a smile that soon matches Atsumu’s own.

“I’m allowed to be happy when I’m being spoiled and making love to my boyfriend.”

“You’re allowed to be happy all the time.”

They keep smiling into their kiss, taking a few seconds to still their wild heartbeats before Atsumu is sliding his hand back to the crevice between Shinsuke’s ass cheeks to play with the plug. He dares to pull on it before he pushes it back in, which earns him a moan breathed right into his mouth.

“Can I take it out?”

Shinsuke hums his approval against his lips and Atsumu eases it out of him, slowly, watching the minute movements of his face until he’s left empty and the plug falls to the floor, to be dealt with later. His twitching hole drips with lube when Atsumu presses two fingers to it.

“D’ya need anything? More lube, condoms?” he offers, “Unless you’ve been hidin’ those from me, too.”

Shinsuke chuckles, “No, I couldn’t have guessed you’d want to do it here. But,” he rises up on his knees, shuffling their bodies closer together until Atsumu’s head is poking at his entrance, “I don’t think they’ll be necessary.”

And, well, who is Atsumu to argue with that. Without any further ceremonies, Shinsuke teases him against his puckered hole once, twice, before his velvety insides part for him, enveloping him whole, slowly. The absence of a condom heightens the experience for both of them, and by the time Shinsuke is fully sat on his lap and Atsumu is buried to the hilt inside his welcoming warmth, they’re panting heavily into each other’s mouths as they become one.

Shinsuke constricts around him as he adjusts to the stretch of his girth, thicker than the plug, reaching deeper than it ever could. Atsumu reaches between them and strokes him through the initial discomfort, but it doesn’t take long for Shinsuke to start circling his hips, keeping Atsumu firmly rooted inside him, sending little ripples of pleasure reverberating through their cores as his walls shift around to accommodate Atsumu’s shaft, and coaxing breathless moans out of them.

“Does it feel good?” Atsumu asks, “Does it hurt?”

Shinsuke sucks Atsumu’s bottom lip into his mouth. “No. You feel good, Atsumu.”

“Better than any toy?”

“Better than any toy,” Shinsuke indulges him. “Although that vibrating thing you got me— _ah!_ ”

Atsumu doesn’t let him finish. His free hand clutches Shinsuke’s hip and grinds his ass down onto his dick, deeper. His snappy reaction earns him a moan from Shinsuke, entwined with a laugh.

“I’m playing with you, Atsumu.” He bends away from him and places his hands behind his back, over Atsumu’s knees, for support. “It does keep me company when you’re not around, you know that,” he adds, fully aware of what kind of thoughts those words will summon in his head. He punctuates them by unfolding his legs from beneath him, planting his feet on the cushion and using the extra freedom of movement to lift his hips and snap them back down in one full movement, making Atsumu see stars.

The worst part is that it _works_ . Atsumu _knows_ all too well what he’s talking about. To the very solid, very real image of Shinsuke fucking himself on his dick and the thought that there could be someone watching the whole thing, his mind provides him with the vivid memory of the short, _too short_ video Shinsuke had sent him a couple of months ago, just a few days after Atsumu had given him the vibrator—something to keep him entertained when Atsumu wasn’t around, if he was ever in the mood—to prove he’d made good use of it. Atsumu hasn’t still quite recovered from the contents of that video, still has recurring fantasies involving him, Shinsuke, and that toy being inserted into either of them.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says through a choked laugh, though his dick throbs violently as he recalls seeing the vibrating toy disappearing inside Shinsuke in much the same way his dick is buried in him now. “You’re going to kill me and there’ll be witnesses.”

Shinsuke hums with a playful smile pulling at his lips, keeps moving his hips. “Not many people around. I think I can get away with it,” he says, looking out the window. 

Atsumu lets go of his dick in favor of gripping his waist and help him set up a steadier pace. “What do you see? Tell me.”

“There’s five— no, six lit houses. I can see people in two of them. And there’s another person. Standing by the window. I don’t know where they’re looking, it’s too far but— but if they look this way, they’ll see.” He looks down at Atsumu. “They’ll see me, Atsumu.”

They’ll see Shinsuke, fucking himself on Atsumu, shirt laid askew over his stomach, mouth parted and chest heaving as the tempo of their hips increases and pleasure takes over him. They’ll see Atsumu, feet planted on the floor, hands on his waist, claiming what belongs to him.

Shinsuke rolls his neck, lets his mouth hang open as he pants with every thrust that takes him apart from the inside. “Are you feeling observed?” he wonders, “I know I am.”

He’s flushed down to his neck but he doesn’t budge, doesn’t cower when faced with the possibility of total strangers seeing him in one of his most vulnerable states.

But something does crack inside Atsumu, though. A twinge of possessiveness, of jealousy, of pure, unadulterated selfishness pinches him somewhere deep in his core, catches him off his guard entirely, and he reacts before he realizes what he’s doing. With an arm wrapped around his middle, Atsumu steals Shinsuke from view, pulls him close to himself again. Feeling more sheltered behind the chair’s back, the icky feeling dissolves almost as quickly as it appeared.

“I think I like it better here, Shin. Don’t wanna show _you_ off too much.”

Shinsuke doesn’t question it. They crash their lips together now that they’re able to, more teeth than anything else, while Shinsuke takes the lead and rides him hard, hands braced on the chair’s armrests, fingernails threatening to leave permanent indents on the soft velvet.

Atsumu puts one hand on the seat and finds leverage against the back of the chair to lift his hips off the seat just enough to be able to meet Shinsuke’s movements halfway, thrusting into him every time Shinsuke goes down. Somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind that have managed to not become overloaded with pleasure, he registers the fact that the armchair doesn’t give out even as he puts most of his weight against it. It’s a fucking great chair.

Atsumu powers through the uncomfortable position relying on his core strength alone, chasing his own release as much as Shinsuke’s. The slapping sound of skin on skin echoes through the room, lewd, mingling with the staccato sound of their moans. Shinsuke rakes a hand down his chest and lets his eyes fall shut when Atsumu grinds his hips in a different angle.

“I’m close, Atsumu. So close,” he says, words slurring together, and the sight of him giving in to his pleasure so freely makes Atsumu’s own orgasm start pooling low in his belly.

Worked up from Atsumu’s previous ministrations with the plug, it doesn’t take Shinsuke much more than that to tip over the edge. With a few finishing strokes of Atsumu’s hand on his dick, he comes, hard, with Atsumu’s name on his lips, interlaced with low, sweet moans, as his warm come spills all over Atsumu’s stomach, streaking his skin from his navel to his ribs.

He clenches tight around Atsumu as he climaxes, sucks him in deep, ushering Atsumu’s own climax along. His thrusts grow less controlled until every muscle in his body goes taut with the brunt of his orgasm and white hot pleasure sparks in his belly, spreading through him like liquid fire. His teeth sink into the crook of Shinsuke’s neck so hard it leaves a mark; blinding pleasure makes him grind deep inside Shinsuke’s inviting warmth as they ride their highs together, until Atsumu has unloaded everything he had to give inside him.

Then comes the crash. They collapse back onto the couch, limbs numb. Atsumu feels a drop of sweat running down the small of his back, Shinsuke clings to him as he catches his breath, face against his neck. Atsumu nuzzles the spot behind his ear until Shinsuke gets the hint and kisses him, lips slotting together softly, just basking in each other’s warmth.

“So,” Shinsuke probes, “how was it? Did it live up to your expectations?"

Atsumu pecks his lips again and again, hugs him impossibly closer as he processes the experience.

“It was hot at first, I liked it. But at a certain point I just _really_ wanted you all to myself, you know, so— I’d say I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would.”

“Funny. I think I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Atsumu says with a crooked smile. Shinsuke kisses it off.

“But I like it better when no one’s watching, too. So let’s not make a habit out of it.”

“Deal,” he replies, though he thinks that as long as this armchair remains here, they will keep returning to it every now and then, to cuddle, for a bit of fun, but probably never to use it as it was intended to.

“Told you this was a good chair, though,” Shinsuke adds as an afterthought, patting the armrest.

“A good chair,” Atsumu nods. Very sturdy, very reliable. “Maybe we should leave a review. The people have to know. Five out of five, very good for love makin’.”

Shinsuke kisses him again to shush him, in part, and to conceal his own giddy smile, but Atsumu can feel his lips stretching through the kiss, so he’s not entirely successful in the latter part.

Atsumu reaches for his discarded shirt, wipes Shinsuke’s come off his stomach, then folds the shirt and gently handles Shinsuke to slide his softening dick out of him and catch any mess that leaks out. Shinsuke tucks him back into his sweatpants that never travelled much further down than the top of his thighs and pats his belly, where it’s still a bit sticky.

“Shower again?” asks Atsumu.

“Shower again.”

Even though it’s still too early to sleep, they move to the bathroom and then to the privacy of their bedroom, out of sight for the night.

—

**Author's Note:**

> [twt ♡](https://twitter.com/yoongoboongi)


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